


Corrupted Action Statement

by Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Instability, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't you see?  They broke me...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corrupted Action Statement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natalieashe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).



> Ashe... who knows I have an aversion to fluff and always seems to know when those three little words will make things a little better in the world... _My darling boy.._

The sky was a gloomy darkness that mirrored his mood as he stood on the building roof looking out over the city.  A familiar place. He and others had stood many times before. Watchful. Over the past months though, it had been him, alone. Hidden bottle out of his desk drawer in hand, he leaned against the balustrade and watched the clouds slowly crawl across the night sky, casting shadows on the murky Thames below.  Storms captivated him, drew him in.  This one grasp his attention with full force.  The first droplets of rain struck his face, but he didn’t retreat.  Instead he remained as it grew, until it was a deluge that would have sent others below running for cover. Within minutes he was utterly soaked. Clothes clung to him, heavy with rain. But he reveled in it, water feeling good cascading against his skin. _Cleansing. Purifying._

Overhead, the thunder rumbled. A bolt of lightning lit the sky.  Deadly beauty outlined the city that never seemed to sleep, stretching far and wide outlining St. Paul’s in the darkness.  Standing against balustrade, the dark haired young man spread his arms, letting the storm engulf him, pull and push him with its gusts of wind.  Here, standing in the midst of a raging thunderstorm, he felt alive. He felt human for the first time in...  he couldn't remember how long.

So much of his life anymore was meaningless. Nothing mattered since he has lost them both. It had all began 11 months 15 days 3 hours 12 minutes ago. Each day since then he had gone through the motions. Get up.  Go to work. However most days he didn't even bother to go to bed anymore.  None of it mattered. None of it was good enough. None of it would ever good enough.

Moneypenny... Tanner... noticed and had called him out on it. Did it matter? How could they understand what was locked away in his head? He hadn't told them—could never open up and tell them. They would never come close to understanding. How could they? The Evil Overlord of Q Branch who herded Licensed to Kill agents had discovered that the strength that others once saw did not actually exist inside him anymore. They couldn't understand something like that until they had lived through the last year inside his head. Until they had to try crawl out of this darkness, to the other side,  on hands and knees, trying to get back on your feet... _And failing_.

They had judged him for the things he’d done lately. Sent him to a Medical.  Sent him to Psych. Maybe they were right in that. He didn't know any more.  Nothing he did seemed to help take the pain away; not for very long at least. Never long enough. Always his mind would go back to those nights. Guiding. Listening on the comms. Feeling absolutely helpless... Useless. Unable to prevent the outcome. And yet, somehow always feeling as if he should have been able.  Nights of his life that would never go away. Nights that had ended in ruin, that included himself. Sound, pain, unspoken words.  There was nothing left inside of him anymore but what those nights had left festering there. A shattered heart and a torn soul. Pain, always the pain. _Always the unspoken words_.

They attributed it to nerves, or a paranoia, a side effect of the medication they had forced on him.  Maybe it was the other drugs and alcohol, an attempt to make the pain go away,  unacknowledged. He didn't have the heart to tell them, couldn't bring himself to say that self medicating helped control the fear. At least it once had taken the fear and brought it to a level he could manage. He couldn't tell them that he had started using them, because he had needed a way to survive.  Nor could he tell them that it wasn't working anymore. No way to control it.

Sometimes he wondered if he was sane anymore. Or if he ever truly had been...  ever. He didn't feel like it. So he stood, a bottle of Macallan in hand, drenched, staring out into the thunderstorm. Eyes traveled over the balustrade. Dark thoughts entered his mind—not for the first time. They had been there frequently. _One step. One quick move and it would be over._

He stepped up on the parapet as he stared down at the dark water stretching out in front of him.  Through the rain he couldn't make out the tarmac below, but he knew that it was a ways down. One small step, one small jump, and he would never have to do this again. Feel any of this again.

While the storm raged overhead, another one raged inside of him. Staring at what he felt was his only release, he found himself thinking about everything that had brought him here. Those nights that had led him here. He saw it all, each step taken, each move made, each miscalculation.  They had all led to this point. Now, there was no going back. Here, by himself.  Home was long since gone. Dead and buried. This was his last moment of courage. His moment to decide where his life would go. To take that step, that final step; or to turn around and face his fears, pain, and anger. To try to move on with his life.

Was he strong enough for either? Could he step down from here, and move on with his life? Was he capable of seeking the help he so desperately needed? But to what end?  He would need to accept that part of life couldn't be changed.  Was gone.  And there was no bringing it... them back.  He didn't think that he could. So much of him felt broken. So much of himself felt gone. Maybe if he’d had the strength at one time to talk with someone about everything that had happened, what he felt,  he might have been able to heal. But no, things were too far gone now. The fact was he _had_ been silent about it. He had kept it all inside, a dirty little secret. And now, he was alone. _This_ was how it was meant to be. _This_ was the only way out.

He spread his arms wide as the thunder roared through the darken skies, one wave after another. It deafened him, so that he couldn't even hear the rain falling around him. But he felt its concussion and smiled. The clouds cried tears along with him. Tears that had finally broke free which at one point he was not capable of shedding. The clouds, the thunder, the rain, they were all mourning for him and those that he had lost.

" _Alec... James...._ "

In the raging storm came a whisper back  " _Q..._.".   

With a final sigh, he took a step into the storm, the openness, into the long awaited forgiving darkness.

 

 


End file.
